


embrace her worldly delights

by lovelit



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 19:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelit/pseuds/lovelit
Summary: He doesn’tmeanto watch her. Alphinaud had only intended to fetch Alisaie, to tell her the rest of the Scions were meeting with the Warrior of Light soon and that she ought to join them.





	embrace her worldly delights

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be for day two of kinktober, prompt "voyeurism", but it kind of ran away with me
> 
> no i have not written day one. this fic reached directly into my brain and demanded to be written out of order when i was supposed to be sleeping

He doesn’t _mean_ to watch her. Alphinaud had only intended to fetch Alisaie, to tell her the rest of the Scions were meeting with the Warrior of Light soon and that she ought to join them. He hadn’t expected her to be— he had only come to the door of the quarters they share in the Rising Stones, and heard a noise from inside that had made him pause rather than simply pushing the door open without a thought as he usually would. The door hangs somewhat haphazardly in the frame, never quite coming all the way closed and always leaving a crack just wide enough to see through, and so when he’d stopped there he’d looked through, trying to place the noise he’d heard.

He hadn’t expected to be greeted with the sight of Alisaie lying back on her bed, naked but for her smallclothes and with her hand thrust into them between her legs. And _upon_ being greeted with that, he definitely intends to— to leave, or to make some kind of noise that will alert her and give her time to stop and cover herself, or… or _something_, at least.

Instead, he freezes, stood there at the door and staring through the crack while his sister gets herself off in their quarters.

Although the door is so close to closed, the angle from it is as perfect as anyone could hope for, were they someone who _wanted_ to watch Alisaie right now. From where he stands, Alphinaud has a perfect line of sight to where her legs are splayed open, the thin cotton of her smallclothes covering her but not actually making the sight seem any less scandalous; not when he can see the way the fabric stretches around the hand that’s working furiously between her legs, the way that it clings where she’s clearly soaked. If he just lifts his eyes a little, he can watch the way Alisaie’s small breasts bounce whenever she jerks her hips up into her hand particularly hard - which is frequently, because apparently his sister goes about pleasuring herself just as aggressively and impatiently as she goes about most things - and where she’s covering her mouth with her other hand, stifling desperate little noises that make Alphinaud want to squirm where he stands.

(It’s— it’s only embarrassment, to hear his sister making noises like that. That’s all.)

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, frozen and staring. Logically it must be minutes at most, if even that, but it feels as though it’s an eternity, everything narrowing down to the sight of Alisaie squirming on that bed and the little sounds she makes into her hand.

The spell is only broken when Alisaie tilts her head abruptly to meet Alphinaud’s eyes through the crack in the door, moves her hand away from her mouth and, voice wrecked and breathless, bites out, “Dear brother, if you’re going to watch, then _at least_ come inside instead of hovering out there. It’s _distracting_.”

There’s no question of _not_ obeying it. Alphinaud is inside the room and pushing the door shut behind himself before he can even think about it, and it’s only then that he freezes again with his back pressed up against the wood of the door.

“I only— I. We’re supposed to meet with the Warrior of Light, is all, they’re due at the thirteenth bell and so I came to fetch you, I simply… I was only coming to fetch you—”

“And then you stood outside the door and watched me for five minutes?” Alisaie cuts into his flustered rambling, one brow arched delicately but her tone too— too _playful_ to be truly biting.

(She also, he registers a moment later, still has her hand buried in her smallclothes, though thankfully it’s at least fallen still.)

“I didn’t— I didn’t _intend_ to,” he tries, which is perfectly honest, and Alisaie snorts and rolls her eyes, finally pulling her hand out of her smallclothes. Alphinaud can see from where he stands that her fingers are slick, and he very carefully averts his gaze to stare very intently at the ceiling, even if it does admittedly feel rather too little, too late at this point.

“You’re _hopeless_, brother,” Alisaie mutters, and he flicks his eyes back to her at the sound.

Only to freeze again, stammering for a moment before he manages to hiss out a frantic, “What are you _doing_?”

Alisaie, still in the process of pulling off her smallclothes, looks utterly unrepentant. She continues to look utterly unrepentant as she gets them off fully and drops them beside her, shifts to prop herself up a little more against her pillows, and then reaches down to start touching herself again; spreading her labia apart with two fingers to expose flushed pink flesh that Alphinaud’s eyes are hopelessly drawn to.

“I’m finishing what I started,” she tells him, as casual as if she were telling him the weather. 

And then she’s sliding her fingers up to rub quick circles over her clit, legs splayed wide like she’s trying to give him as much of a view as possible, and Alphinaud can’t hold back the soft, desperate groan that rises in his throat at the sight. He can’t look away, entirely transfixed by the sight of Alisaie like this; naked and spread out before him, with her fingers working over her clit as she stares back at him and her hips jerking up greedily into the touch of her hand every few moments. 

“_Alisaie_,” he manages to push out through a throat that feels too tight, a mouth that feels too clumsy. “Alisaie, I—”

He’s stepping forward as he speaks, barely aware of moving until he reaches the bed, until he’s on his hands and knees upon it himself, settled between Alisaie’s legs and lifting his head to stare up at her face. She looks less cocky with him so close, more open, and when Alphinaud reaches out and pulls her hand slowly from between her legs, she lets out a little _oh_ sound that’s more surprise than he’d expected, less protest. When he lowers his head to replace that hand with his mouth, his raised eyes catch Alisaie’s going wide and shocked before she draws in a sharp and shuddering breath, before she tosses her head back against the pillows and bites her lip to keep quiet a long, keening whine.

It’s enough encouragement to keep going, at least, to suck at her clit and sweep his tongue over her folds and press it into her soaked hole, to feel the way she shudders and clenches at the sensation. He doesn’t exactly have experience doing this with women, but Alisaie is his twin and he knows her as he knows himself; it doesn’t matter that there’s no cock between his lips, that the hand knotting in his hair is no larger than his own, that the taste on his tongue isn’t what he’s used to. That pales in comparison to this, to this moment and this feeling and to Alisaie above him, her legs wrapped around his shoulders as she whimpers into her other hand.

(He wonders, for a brief and feverish moment before the thought skitters away from him, whether tempering feels even a little like this; like the narrowing of all awareness to one being, to one moment; like nothing else matters besides being chosen to be in that moment, to serve that being.)

Alphinaud doesn’t know how long he spends eating Alisaie out before she’s gripping harder at his hair, before she’s forcing him down harder against her and rolling her hips up at the same time, taking her pleasure from him rather than simply allowing him to give it to her. He lets her use his mouth like that, though, moans into her core and keeps on pressing his tongue into her hole so that he feels it that much more when Alisaie finally comes; feels her walls clench around his tongue, feels her hips tense beneath him, feels her hand grip so tight in his hair that he thinks his scalp will be tender for hours as she stifles a noise like a sob into her other hand.

When she finally comes down enough to let go, Alphinaud sits up and pulls back, averting his eyes. He can feel her staring up at him, but he doesn’t meet her gaze; only focuses very intently on the wall until Alisaie sits up, makes a sharp, frustrated noise, and reaches out to grab his chin and turn his face back toward her.

“You eat me out like you were born to do it, and _then_ you get embarrassed?” Alisaie asks, blunt as his twin always is, and reaches out to tug his braid affectionately when Alphinaud’s cheeks heat.

“I didn’t… I didn’t intend to do that,” he tells her, and it sounds even weaker than the last time he’d said it.

Alisaie just snorts, letting go of Alphinaud’s hair to stand and start pulling her clothes back on. “Well, if you manage to find it in yourself to _not intend to_ do it again, I for one wouldn’t say no.”

(Point the first: Alphinaud’s sister is _the worst_.)

(Point the second: he is absolutely going to do this again.)


End file.
